


Neek Nork

by HenryHeck



Category: One Direction
Genre: Bottom Louis, M/M, Oh also?, Prostitute AU, Save me from this hell, The closest I'm ever getting to writing smut, i don't even like 1d, pretty nsfw at parts, rape mentioned at one point, why am i here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7908121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HenryHeck/pseuds/HenryHeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hastily written mess from 2am with a bit of decent writing. Might continue this, probably not. Edit:continued for at least another chapter. They say the key to good writing is having a direction you're going in and a definite end in mind. This is why I'm bad at fics. <br/>The title is subject to change. </p><p>Louis is a prostitute, Harry's an asshole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [day7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/day7/gifts).



Louis leans against the graffitied brick wall on the corner, the neon bar sign across the street illuminates the still-shiny parts of his scuffed combat boots, reflecting both his tired face and the sign itself. Business is slow as always, but he’ll get by, he always does. He runs his tongue over his lip piercings absently, pretending not to get his hopes up every time a man exits the bar; every time a car drives by slower than usual. It’s getting colder and colder every day and it’s getting late, maybe it’s time to go home. 

Finally a car stops, a dark grey slim vehicle, a sports car Louis thinks. The window rolls down, a guy with bright pink lips and intense glaring eyes in the drivers seat. He nods his head, motioning toward the passenger side. Louis approaches casually, making sure to check for inner door handles. “Forty for a blowjob, seventy for fucking, one hundred for both. what’ll it be, big boy.?” Louis is desensitized to the sweet talk but he can’t help but roll his eyes at himself sometimes. 

“Alright, we’ll discuss that after, let’s see what you’ve got,” the man reaches over to Louis’ fly, pulling out what he wants. 

“Slow down there,” Louis panics a little bit, “you pay me first, then you get what you pay for, got it?” Louis bucks slightly, his body contradicting his protests. 

“I like to see what I buy first,” he says, continuing to stroke Louis. “Not bad, actually.”

“Sir, that’s not-” Louis lets out a quick breath he got caught on. Oh my god, will he calm down enough to ask for his god damn money? The assailant pushes Louis down into a slouch against the car door, unbuttoning his pants with his free hand. Louis really hates being so small. “You’re gonna be fine,” he says, positioning himself at Louis’ hips. 

The next few minutes go by in a blur, Louis is left in a panting mess. “Alright,” the man buttons his pants back up, Louis puts his back on. “Have a good night,” he leans over and opens Louis’ door.

“What?” Louis was still a bit out of it, “what about the money?”

“I’m in a hurry, get out.” He motions out the door, almost shooing Louis out. Not wanting any trouble or violence, Louis steps out, still trying to negotiate for his 70 dollars. It’s too late, the car is gone as quickly as it came. Whatever, it’s late, Louis needs to get home. 

He slips up the stairs of the seedy apartment, avoiding his landlord for fear of an angry hung over confrontation. Louis takes off his shirt, washing the cum stain from his shirt in the sink, leaving it to soak. He flops onto the lumpy yellowing bed and goes to bed. 

It’s been a week since pretty boy screwed Louis over and he’s back at the same cold brick wall. He’s already had a client so he’s a little sore already. Louis has a few rules when it comes to work. One: no glove, no love. Two: mild kinks are okay but toys’ll cost you extra. Three: don’t get attached.

Three is the most important, men show up, have their way with Louis, and they’re out of his mind. Does he have regulars? He must, but he couldn’t name them, they were there for sex, not a place in Louis’ mind. Still, Louis can’t help but wonder if pretty boy’ll show up, if only to pay him back. Fat chance. 

His breath puffs out like smoke in the air, he imagines life as a fire breathing dragon for a few minutes, interrupted by a slim grey sports car, he gets in and waits for any verbal queue. “So, you wanna pay up now or are you here for more unsolicited free samples?” Louis grumbles more irritably than planned. The man smirks at Louis, reaching over to palm his member. Damn it, pretty boy is good but Louis needs money. Pretty boy unbuttons his pants and Louis’ helpless. 

Louis is furious, he didn’t get his money and now he’s another seventy dollars in the hole. He storms home, not bothering to be quiet. 

Big mistake. 

“So you finally decide to come home.” Louis jumps at his landlord’s voice. 

“… Late night at work, sorry.”

“You missed your rent again yesterday.”

“Sorry, I’ll get the money next week.”

“That’s what you said last week, Tomlinson.” His voice growles. “One more week or you’re gone.”

Louis swallows, continues up the stairs and makes his way to bed. 

Time to start working overtime. 

••• 

It’s a long week, it doesn’t seem to matter how long Louis stays out, he still gets barely enough to buy groceries. Friday night comes sooner than expected and Louis has a grand total of fifty dollars left over, he’s painted himself into a corner. Lack of work for a whore is unbelievable but lo and behold, Louis keeps falling short, it’s almost embarrassing. Scratch that, it is embarrassing, really really embarrassing. He’s tried everything; different locations proved equally fruitless, lower prices “don’t make [him] better to fuck, it makes [him] a cheaper dirty slut.” In the words of a particularly articulate client. 

So back to the dirty cold brick wall across from the bar, Louis shivers in the thirty degree weather in only a tight long sleeved shirt. (He still needs to advertise the merchandise.) The same sports car pulls up, a little earlier than the usual time, Pretty Boy rolls down the window and tells Louis to get in. Louis storms over to the car, clearly pissed, “Hey, man, as great a lover you are, you gotta pay the fuck up at some point.” 

“Alright, fine.” Pretty Boy rolls his eyes, scoffing as he drives off. 

“Wait a minute, come back!” It’s useless, he’s gone, Louis can’t catch up. He drops back down in front of the wall, defeated and disappointed at the lack of patronage from Pretty Boy. It’s still a little early to call it a day so Louis stays put, waiting for the odd customer or two, not that he’s looking too hospitable slouching and glaring at the sidewalk beneath him. Luckily enough a man takes notice of the poor boy on the ground, he’s about average height, with greying dark hair in a partially balding combover. 

“Hey, looking for some fun tonight?”

“Yeah, if the price is right, big boy,” Louis replies, trying as best he can stomach to sound flirtatious. 

“How much for a quick suckoff in the bar over there?”

“Thirty-five.”

“That little? What disease’ve you got, boy?”

“Being bored and horny, is all, you in or not?” Louis groans on the inside, more like being desperate and poor.

“Deal,” the man says, helping Louis to his feet. 

•••

He didn’t last long at all, Louis makes his way back to his corner, debating whether to stay or head home. Just then the sports car returns, Pretty Boy beckons him over with his finger, handing him eight twenty dollar bills. Louis looks down at the money, up at Pretty Boy, then back at the money in disbelief. 

“You’re over by twenty dollars, here’s your change” Louis hands over a dollar, only for Pretty Boy to shove his hand back. 

“I’m not paying for that,” He smirks mischievously. 

“You can’t get anything else with your twenty, if you got four blowjobs you could spend it all but now you’re stuck, I’m not interested in your twenty dollar odd job.” Louis’ getting a bad feeling about this guy. 

“Great math, Einstein, what’s a genius like you doing as a gutter slut?” The smirk turns to a joking smile, the intense eyes turned kind for a split second, maybe this guy’s mentally ill. Louis turns red. 

“So if you’re not paying me for the last two weeks… Then what is your money for?” Louis steps back as if he sees a vision of Pretty Boy pulling him into the car against his will. 

"Down payment." He smiles momentarily. Louis stares in skeptical confusion. 

“You live with me, I provide you food and your only payment to me is your body whenever I want.”

Louis looks for the smirk, the happy eyes, anything; but this man is clearly for real. 

“…I’m” adrenaline runs through Louis’ body, “I’m not gonna be your sex slave, I don’t need shelter and food like a pet! I’ll take my money for the sex but that’s it! Leave me alone you psycho freak, you’re my client not my lover!” Louis throws the last dollar to the ground and runs for home, hoping the car doesn’t follow him, hoping he never sees that car. 

Louis runs up the stairs frantically, not noticing the angry landlord coming out to greet him.

“Home, Louis? You seem preoccupied, hm?”

“Yeah, just trying to get fit, watch my shape, you know the deal.” Louis turns around, facing the overweight man with hesitance. 

“One week,” he barks, “I gave you a week to pay your rent”

Louis’ heart sinks. 

“Where is it, Louis?” 

His throat has a lump in it. 

“Louis, I’m waiting.”

“Look, I’ve got about two or three hundred I just need a little longer-”

He sighs, “you’re off of my goddamn property tomorrow, you have tonight to pack. 

Louis half blinks, making sure not to let the tears blurring his vision spill over. "Yes sir.”

••• 

The first night is always the hardest, that’s what Howard says at least. He’s been homeless for years, takes newbies under his wing. He says to keep your head down and keep warm. Louis listens intently from underneath the park bench, praying police don’t come to kick Howard and him out. He doesn’t sleep at all, only shivers and tries to stay calm. If only this were his first night. 

That morning Howard and Louis wake up to some guy rifling through the latter’s duffle bag. Howard stops them soon enough to salvage Louis’ bag, one hoodie, and ten dollars. Louis soon remembers as hard as it is to eat when you’re nearly broke, it’s even harder when you are broke. He goes two days without eating, stays at his usual post by the wall almost twenty-four hours a day. 

The third night a car pulls up, tall man with bright pink lips and intense glaring eyes steps out and looks down at the unkempt Louis at his feet. 

“I know your answer likely hasn’t changed but here’s my final offer, last chance. ” he extends a hand for Louis. 

Louis remains motionless. This man is offering a stable job that gives shelter and food, a small step up from slavery, but he’s promised accommodations for survival. Indentured servitude to a possessive psycho, Louis can’t believe what he’s signing up for as he takes his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Louis wakes up naked in a bed with pristine white tousled sheets. This is not his apartment. He begins to panic then remembers last night, his panic goes from where am I to when is Pretty Boy going to throw Louis' chopped up remains into the nearest river and who would be able to identify the mutilated hooker. He figures he'll either come upstairs to kill him or he's waiting downstairs to attack so it doesn't matter if he goes down to find some food.  
The whole house seems to be neutral toned and cold, on the dining table is a bowl, a (almost warm) milk carton and a box of cereal, real fancy, Mr. Grey. Next to the bowl is a note in girly handwriting.  
At work, help yourself.  
Your clothes were gross  
so I threw them out  
Be home around 17  
maybe?  
—H  
PS if all your clothes are  
like that don't go back to  
your apartment to get them  
H? Okay, Louis just hopes he doesn't have a gross old man name like Harold or Henry. It occurred to Louis that he's been snooping around Pretty Boy's house without any clothes and that the help yourself probably extended itself to his clothes as well, which, from what little he'd seen, were atrocious. He reminds Louis of everything people hate about the seventies, he would make a great pimp in Hollywood.  
His wardrobe confirms his first impression, ugly burgundy-green sweaters, flowery thin dress pants, it's looking more and more like the women's section of goodwill vomited and H saved every scrap of clothing in the mess. How many pairs of old lady shoes can a man have? Louis decides on a pair of white pants with roses embroidered along the thin black stripes. He wants to knife the roses out with one of Pretty Boy's fancy daggers but the pants aren't his to ruin and he doubts he even has a dagger. He dug through the trash for his old shirt because he's lost enough dignity by wearing the pants. He loiters and snoops for the next few hours, the ends of the pants trailing shortly behind. He probably won't wear them for too long anyways after Pretty Boy gets home.  
When he does he walks in to Louis browsing his internet history, he quickly closes the tab but Louis knows he knows.  
"Why are you wearing that?"  
"The pants? You trashed mine so I just kinda went for it?"  
"The top."  
Louis shrugs, _Because your clothes are fucking gay? ___  
"I'll pick something out, follow me."  
Pretty Boy has a shirt in his mess, beige and flowy, it's surprisingly not horrible. He flops onto the bed, his shirt rides up and Louis catches a glimpse of a tattoo, how he hadn't noticed it before was beyond him. Louis wonders why he even bothered getting dressed if he was just gonna take them off right now.  
"Wanna get something to eat?" _What? ___  
"Sure," Louis feels stupid for just assuming. "For a second I thought we were just gonna..." _Stop talking oh my god. ___  
"Oh," Pretty boy sits up, "I mean if you want to we can I was just..." He unbuttons his pants.  
"No no, you're okay, I can do whatever, you're the boss." What just happened what the fuck? 

_The car ride to the restaurant is painfully quiet, the restaurant isn't any better. Louis drinks two glasses of wine before a sentence comes out._  
"So..." Pretty Boy swirls his wine around "how was your day?" _Oh my god this is not happening. Oh my god. ___  
"What's H for?"  
"Harry." He takes a sip  
_Fucking Harold, at least it's not Henry, I guess. ___  
"Huh, you dress like a Harriet."  
He almost chokes. "You dress like a cheap whore so I guess we're even."  
Louis can't suppress a smirk, "isn't that what I am?"  
"No, you're with me, you're an expensive whore now."  
Louis' not even that drunk that shouldn't be so funny, he's not even a fun drunk anyways. It becomes evident after a couple more drinks Harry is, though. He giggles at every rude quip made and gets teary at most serious comments.  
"How'd you even end up a gutter slut? You seem good enough, good at math and sarcasm at least." He smiles like a Disney princess.  
"I guess being a petite brunette twink doesn't go as well with your conservative family as it does with people of your browser history."  
"How'd that go for you?"  
"Well I was homeless for a while, I kept my landlord at bay by letting him use me, then when he was sick of me he demanded money along with it. That went on for a few years I guess..."  
Harry stops swirling his drink.  
"So after I couldn't pay up I was homeless for a while, gathered enough money to come crawling back, stayed there for another year or so, life got better, I left, and I decided to stay with you instead of paying rent." Almost completely accurate, Louis' impressed with himself.  
His buzz was gone, he looked like he was caught in the middle of a crime.  
_I made it weird fuck change the subject. ___"So how'd you get by, Richie?"  
"Harry."  
_I guess the drinks didn't lose all their effect. ___  
"I never brought it up and as long as they never do they'll keep supporting me financially, at least enough to never go hungry."  
Louis wishes he could take back coming out, he envies Pretty Boy, he ate his meal and he's done vulturing Pretty Boy's food so he asks for the check and head home in a slightly less painful silence.  
Pretty Boy takes his clothes off before bed so Louis follows suit but nothing happens, they just lay on each side of the bed facing away from each other. It's been a while since Louis was in a decent bed to sleep, he thinks of the other times and his vision blurs, his breathing starts going out of control, he needs to calm down. Sleeping here, without being used, made him feel almost wanted. It's weird but it's surprisingly... Nice. 


End file.
